


Enclosed Opinions

by Quillss



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward First Times, Fluff and Smut, Historical Inaccuracy, Kingbury, M/M, alex hates samuel seabury, holy moly stop me, mega gay, plot purposes, they're in england fsr, you know the usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillss/pseuds/Quillss
Summary: Samuel stood with his papers in his hands, ruffled, annoyed, and beyond sick of this attitude."I pray the king shows you his mercy!" He spat, narrowing his eyes into slits."Is he in Jersey?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> woo another fic i wrote in school.  
> @everyone who has requested, thank you for being so patient!! i'll hopefully get all 9 done by the end of 2017!!

The crowd surrounded him, oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph. He felt as if the platform below him was the only solid piece of land left in the world. Samuel cleared his throat and everyone turned toward him, expecting. He had tried to amp himself up in the mirror this morning, but like all things, it didn't really work.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" He called out, waving his spare hand around as to attract more attention to himself. Most of the crowd happened to be commoners, church-followers, and the occasional huddle of soldiers.

"My name is Samuel Seabury, and I present; 'Free Thoughts on the Proceedings of the Continental Congress.'"

* * *

 

He had been dissed more than enough at this point. He was basically fuming, but God forbid he have a tantrum in the middle of the public. A soldier had the wit to disagree with him. Well, of course, he was a solider. Alexander's friends cheered him on as he dissed Samuel's opinions, this was more than enough. Samuel stood with his papers in his hands, ruffled, annoyed, and beyond sick of this attitude.

"I pray the king shows you his mercy!" He spat, narrowing his eyes into slits.

"Is he in Jersey?" Alexander retorted back as jeers and taunts threw themselves at the bishop, supporting this delinquent's opinions other than his. Didn't they just hear him? Was he speaking another language, or maybe they didn't understand English? Nonetheless, Samuel had had enough.

"For shame!" He yelled, tightening the grip on his papers until the were on the verge of being creased and ripped.

"For the Revolution!" Alex shouted back, and the crowd repeated his words. How could this be happening? He had stayed up late nights and early mornings for the past two weeks to write his works, and it could be disarmed as easily as this. Well, Samuel definitely wasn't going to stand for this.

The bishop took more than a few steps forward, he didn't plan on resorting to violence, only a simple name drop and he could report this to his commanding officer. Fists clenched, only for stress relief, he stared Alexander down. He wasn't that much taller than him, only by an inch or two, but Seabury hoped that he least looked intimidating.

"Sir, your actions have been more than ridiculed by not only me,-" Samuel had began, but he must've triggered something in the smaller man, because a swift punch to the stomach knocked the bishop from the platform and onto the muddy-stone below it. His robes had been torn in the fall and possibly permanently stained. Laughter jeered behind him and he felt tears prick his eyes. At least he wasn't standing for it now.

His papers lay ruined on the concrete, as people trudged over his writing as if it was part of the street itself. All his hard work, and for what? A five minute entertainment? How humiliating, he was a bishop, not a jester, and he should be treating with much more respect.

As Samuel stood himself up from the pavement, he parted his lips to yell accusations at Alexander, before being interrupted by a general in a redcoat. Everything was silent, except for the messenger's dreary tone ringing out. Finally, someone who support his opinion. The messenger stared at the dreary church follower, and his mouth parted. 

"Sir, do you happen to be, uh, Samuel Seabury?" He inquired. Samuel's eyes lit up, and he nodded. People murmured behind him and the messenger held out his hand to him. "The King wishes to see you immediately."

A stone sunk in his stomach. Seabury talked about the king, how great he was, how he adored him, but he had never actually met the man. But it wasn't like he could reject, it was King George the III after all! Hesitantly nodding, and following the red-coated messenger, he feared for the worst.

Would George like him? He was a bishop, and certain that the King was a man of God. But why him of all people? They were plenty of other loyalists to choose from, and this was Samuel's first public meeting about it. And he had gotten ridiculed! Maybe the King had already found it, even though it was only five minutes ago, but what if he  _did_ know? Was he going to be punished? Exiled? Killed?

Okay, maybe Samuel's thoughts had gotten a little off track. He stared down at his attire, which was worst for wear. Mud stained his sleeves, his robes were ripped to near shreds, he was just glad these weren't his best. Oh god, should he have asked to go back home and changed? He wasn't fit in appearance to have an audience with the King. He cleared his throat loudly, gaining the messenger's attention.

"Excuse me, sir," He began. "I-" 

"Everything will be sorted for you at Windsor Castle, clothes, papers, necessities. We'd see it fit if you were to change yourself up before you see the King." Without even hearing his question, the messenger had somehow answered it. Maybe it was commonly asked, but Samuel didn't remember anything about the British monarchy picking up random loyalists from the streets.

"O-oh, alright.." Samuel replied in a stutter, he was a bit embarrassed that him of all people would see the King. There was plenty more people who were more deserving, but he wasn't complaining aloud once they got to the entry way of Windsor Castle.

He thought the scenery was impressive on it's own, a colossal build standing way over the church. With a cream-beige outer and the windows firmly polished that they sparkled. Guards surrounded every entry and exit, which was a little scary, but he was sure it was nothing too important, probably just normal protocol. As they opened the massive doors, Samuel was taken aback. 

A marble floor that was probably stainless, a red carpet with the finest trimming in all of England. The walls were studded with intricate gold designs and paintings of the past monarchies lay on each wall. Priceless candelabras and chandeliers lit up the room, on the roof or on smooth tables and dressers. Samuel tucked a strand of loose redish-blonde hair behind his ear, standing agape in wonder.

"Sir, please come with us." The messenger from before had just vanished into thin air, replacing him was two maids. One resided with tied black blonde hair, while the other's hairdo was hidden under a cap. He didn't object as they lightly grabbed his hands and lead him into one of the bathing rooms. Like the foyer, it looked and probably was pristine. He just hoped his first impression wouldn't be his last.

* * *

Samuel had lost track of time, he had probably been here for about an hour or more. He had been stripped, bathed, washed, clothed, and his hair was currently being brushed by the blonde maid from before. They had taken away his normal robes and given him some sort of luxurious bishop set, sleeves loose and the ends by his feet. In all honesty, it felt like he was wearing a dress many sizes too big for him. But he wasn't going to object, in fear of.. anything, really. His strawberry blonde hair was being swept back into a neat curve, before another unknown maid entered the dressing room and whispered in a hushed tone toward the blonde.

They gave each other worried glances and bowed to Samuel before leaving. He sat in front of the mirror, beyond confused. Was a shift exchange or something? Whatever the case, he didn't really know what to do. Standing up awkwardly, almost tripping over the amount of fabric over his body, he looked around the room.

It was astonishing. A silky duvet on a curtained bed, the pillars holding up the smooth drapes. Paintings of past relatives had entered the room again, and it was a little creepy. Intricate designs on the walls made the room look magical, as well as the desk with a stack of paper and a quill, followed by the ink pot. There was the dresser he was sitting at, with a oval shaped mirror and golden frame, each drawer with it's own silvery knob.

Samuel placed a hand on the bed, sitting on the beautiful quilt. His hands were tracing over the smooth silkiness before the door opened behind him, he assumed it was a maid or another servant to inform him of another delay with his meeting with George. He turned his gaze to the guest, and almost fell back onto the bed, nearly ripping the curtains.

"Y-Your Highness!" He stuttered. George had come to him! He was sure he'd had to wait another few hours to see the man himself, and he was here, right now, in the bedroom with him. The King had simply smiled at his surprise, as if he saw this thing everyday.

"Samuel Seabury, right?" He asked, and Samuel nodded vigorously. "Y-Yes! Oh my, your Highness, I'm so honored to meet you. I d-don't know why you'd want to see me, but I'm sure-"

"Seabury, please." George interrupted him and he instantly shut his mouth. King George took a few steps forward so he was only a few centimeters away from the bishop. He raised and eyebrow, and grinned like a maniac. "You're a loyalist, aren't you?"

Again, Samuel nodded, even if it was a little nervously. George clasped his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! See, I was afraid those yanks, well,  _Americans_ , had corrupted the minds of every lawful man out there. I'm glad you're still on the sane side of this silly war."

"B-But of course, your Highness! You see, I've ac-actually written papers on this subject, but they've been trampled by some.. delinquents. I am so so sorry, your Highne-"

"Please, Samuel. You don't have to call me that bedraggled and overused name in private. George is fine for now." 

"Right, George. Well, I did have the papers but they were.. destroyed in a riot of some sort." Samuel blushed from embarrassment, but also from the King calling him by his forename, like they were good friends or relatives.

"A riot, you say?" the King asked intrigued. He placed a hand on his chin and drew a elegant finger over the smooth skin. "Well, that's no good, Samuel. I'm sure you're traumatized from these events, you must allow my staff to settle you into the castle tonight, am I wrong?"

George phrased it like it wasn't a question, more of a subtle command. But it wasn't as if he was going to reject his King, and a night in _Windsor Castle._ So Samuel nodded, which had been most of his replying in this conversation. "Wonderful, Samuel. I hope you have your papers memorized, I'd like to hear your thoughts on me over dinner."

Again, he didn't ask, or request. Samuel nodded once more, biting his bottom lip out of nervous habit. Everything was happening way too quickly for him to process, he wouldn't be surprised if he fainted out of shock.

"Well, Sam," And now he had a hypocorism. "I'm sure you'll have plenty more to say when we dine tonight, ta-ta!" Without warning, he left the room with a quiet door slam. Samuel blinked and lay his back down on the bed, propping up his head with his pillow.

Tonight was going to be a fiasco, he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skkss i was watching rick and morty while writing this so i was kinda outta of it
> 
> i also have about six sicknesses, and anaemia is kicking in badly. fantastic, right? hey i might right a sick-fic at some point.

Samuel paced around the room, it had been exactly an hour since George had come in and told him his plans. The winter was awful, it was only five in the evening but it was as black as sin out there. Other than the occasional flicker of lanterns outside, the night had overtaken London.

Luckily, his own room had been lit up into a nice atmosphere. He still wore the slightly-too big robes that the maids had picked out for him, and he had tried to avoid doing anything to mess up his prim state. Breathing in and out to calm himself, Samuel was literally about to exit his room and ask a member of staff for help, before the door opened and there stood the maids from before.

"The King wishes to dine with you now, sir." They said in union, which was more than creepy. But he wouldn't say anything aloud about it, he couldn't be rude to staff members of the King. Stepping to the side to let the bishop through, Samuel padded around the marble-floored hallways, his footsteps leaving a quiet click against the hard but wonderfully polished surface. 

Windsor Castle looked even more glamorous at night, overtaken by the magic of beauty, as if the King himself had decorated and designed each aspect of the interior, beautiful, just like him-

Think straight thoughts, Samuel. He instantaneously began to think. He would not take another man as a partner, and would never take a partner in his lifetime. If God wished him to be the role he is, he would stay that way until he became the most loyal servant a King could ask for.

Not a king! God, he meant God! Sure, he was a loyalist and would stay by George's metaphorical side for as long as he would live, oh goodness, that sounded like a marriage statement.

Straight thoughts! Straight thoughts! Straight thoughts!

He had to think rationally. Opening the doors to the glamorous dining hall, Samuel was taken aback by the beauty of it all. Golden designs of the most detailed wall paper, a shiny floor with not a trace of footprints, candles flickered around the room and a chandelier dangled from the ceiling at the center of the table. The King sat at the head, obviously, with of course a small side seat for the bishop himself.

The table was laid beautifully, with red, frilled cloth. Candelabras lit the table, as well as the fragile china plates and cups daunting the surface. Uncovered silver platters revealed the most mouth watering dishes beyond Samuel's own home cooking, and he looked taken aback by it all. Wine glasses filled with red sat on the table, followed by priceless, gleaming cutlery that looked brand new. This was all way too much for him, but he couldn't turn it down, couldn't be rude, this was King George William Frederick, the third!

All the thoughts whirring in his head made him forget about his physical state, Samuel's stomach grumbled to alert him of the current situation. He hadn't really eaten anything all day, he was too nervous this morning and now the anxiety was storming back. But he must stay calm, it was an opposition for him.

Taking a few steps forward, the King finally looked up at him with a smile. A smile, more like a maniacal grin, but he still thought it nice. 

"Ah, Samuel! Please, do join me. I was growing utterly bored waiting." He basically shouted at him, but the tone was cheerful. Samuel obliged nervously by sitting by his right side, a place usually reserved for the King's most important guests. Was he really that important to him? No, it was probably just so they could converse easily. Nobody else was in the room with them, and he assumed that the guards had been told to wait outside, instead of protecting their monarchy from the innermost.

"It's really, a-an honor, your Highness. I'd love to-"

"Please, Samuel!" George stopped him mid-sentence and Samuel immediately shut up. "I told you to call me George when we're alone."

"R-Right, sorry, George. As I was saying, I'd love to show you some drafts of my latest loyalist papers, they aren't as good as the ones I had before, but they're.. decent." Oh goodness, why did he just say that? Decent wasn't good enough for a King, he should've said excellent, spectacular, written by Moses himself!

"But of course," the King started. "I'd love to see what you've written about me, Seabury. I'm sure it'll all be good, right?" 

"Yes, your High- George! Yes, well, I-I don't know really. That's your decision." He replied in a blind panic. Really, he should be more confident of himself. If the King of Britain thought him a worthy enough loyalist, surely he shouldn't be nervous about even his own works. He eyed the table set before him, and George noticed his eager attitude to stop conversing.

Though he was a little annoyed that Samuel was so quick to stop talking, he found it.. a little cute. Well, he'd oblige the bishop gratefully. Grabbing the fine cutlery laid on the table, he gave a subtle smile at him.

"Well, I'm sure you're famished, Samuel. Shall we begin?"

* * *

 

Small talk was one of Samuel's greatest enemies, but thankfully George seemed to provide most of the conversation, gloating and preaching about how fantastically he was doing with the revolution, Britain was sure to win in his opinion. Of course, the loyalist just briefly nodded here and there, giving a few short answers such as 'yes', 'no', 'possibly', 'only you' and such. Maybe it was the amount of wine he had been drinking all night, but he started to feel.. flustered, almost dizzy.

He had a splitting headache, but at least he was warm, and intent. The King hadn't really stopped talking all night, but it was bliss for him. What time was it? It had to be past midnight at this time, he was starting to feel exhausted. Why did all negative things have to happen to him, when he was supposed to be having the night of his life? His felt his eyes grow heavy with sleep, and he could barely function a small smile. 

Samuel's exhaustion become more clear by the second, and George had seen that his energy was clearly running on single digits now. Well, they had eaten the majority of their meal, it wasn't really a sin for him to be tired. The King stood up from his chair, placing his palms on the table and exhaling. "Well," he began. "shall we head to bed? I'd love to converse more with you, but it seems as if you're a little tired, no?" 

He put it as delicately and politely as he could, but an obvious twinge of annoyance was in his tone. Samuel nodded, heaving himself from the table, clasping his hands over his front. They walked side by side down the castle hallways, though George was more upbeat than the loyalist himself, he appreciated the company. 

They stopped outside Samuel's room, and he gave a tired smile. "Thank you, for this evening. It was lovely." It was the best thing he could conjure, without being rude of course. His head tilted downward slightly, resembling a bow of some sorts. It was as he placed his hand on the doorknob, did George finally speak up. 

"Seabury!- I mean, Samuel, yes. I-I'd love it if we'd.. escort each other to sleep tonight." Was he seriously asking him to sleep with him? Samuel blinked wildly. This is what he had wanted all night, but now that it was offered to him, he felt.. conflicted. He was a man of God, he had devoted his life to the church and the only man he would accept into his heart was his lord and savior. 

So why on earth did he agree?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO GET PRANKED GUYS - there's actually gonna be a third, NSFW chapter!! this'll be my first public NSFW writing, so please don't judge too harshly.
> 
> thanks for reading!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> sorry the ending is so rushed!! i had to use a netbook to finish it off, and chapter 2 might be out soon/when i have the time. plus im currently doing requests & other gameshow/video stuff, and im only writing these at school mainly.


End file.
